


Tomorrow

by FlamboyantScientist



Series: Today, Tomorrow, Yesterday [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Batman: Arkham (Video Games) Setting, And Ignis used to be Huntress (hunter) bcoz I thought Batboy (Batgirl) sounded funny, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ardyn is the Joker, Canon-Typical Violence, Cindy is Catwoman, Developing Relationship, Getting Back Together, Gladio is Batman, Hurt/Comfort, Iggy’s Uncle is the police commissioner, Ignis is Oracle, Iris is (Tim Drake) Robin, Luna is Mr (Miss) Freeze, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Nightmares, Noctis is Nightwing, Oh and Aranea is deathstroke, Prompto is Red Hood, Recovery, Superheroes, but it doesn’t last don’t worry, i explain most of it anyway, look I just mashed two of my favourite fandoms together and I’m pleased with how it came out, that’s all that’s relevant atm I think, you don’t need to know Batman to understand this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29533161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamboyantScientist/pseuds/FlamboyantScientist
Summary: Tomorrow/təˈmɒrəʊ/noun, adverb1. the day after todayeg; The day(s) after the dead Robin comes back to lifeFFXV — Batman AU
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Series: Today, Tomorrow, Yesterday [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169726
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	1. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Teen for language and Batman-typical violence
> 
> Hi! I mashed two of my favourite fandoms together, and came up with this! You don’t need to know much in the way of Batman lore to understand this fic, coz I explain most of it. Cast of relevant characters are in the tags, but more characters will come in future parts!
> 
> A brief overview of the Batman:Arkham games that may help things make sense (but you don’t NEED it coz I diverge from the games anyway):  
> Joker stages an uprising at Arkham Asylum which results in the Asylum being shut down, and in doing so injects himself with something called TITAN which was supposed to make him strong enough to beat Batman, but it poisons his blood. 
> 
> Then the super criminals are moved to Arkham City, where Joker poisons Batman with TITAN as well and forces him to make the cure. But then I go down a different route from the games, so you don’t need to know more than that coz I explain what happens in this fic. 
> 
> I’m writing three main instalments to this AU (Tomorrow, Today, and Yesterday) which will explore the ins and outs of this Bat Clan, and I’m halfway through the sequel already. Hopefully by posting this I can motivate myself to finish.
> 
> WARNINGS: several characters believe another character is dead but this is incorrect, a character begins to recover from being kidnapped and tortured (torture is all implied, not referenced in detail or talked about), a character grabs another character and doesn’t let go when asked

It’s been a year. 

That’s the first thought in Gladiolus’ head when he wakes up in the morning. 

Usually he wakes on the sofa, still bone exhausted, while Jared potters around in the kitchen making something for breakfast that Gladio pretends to eat before getting ready for some business meeting. 

But today he wakes up in his much too-large bed (a rare occurrence) with another lithe body under the sheets next to him (an even rarer occurrence). 

Gladio rolls over towards the body and watches the man sleep soundly, dark hair messy and cheek smushed against the pillow with drool marking the corner of his mouth.

Usually, Gladio’s Manor is far too empty. Jared lives with him, sure, and occasionally his little sister, Iris, will stay as well. But the Manor is just too big to be occupied by that many people. It had been built to be a family home, one where people could live their whole lives in and raise their children in. It had not been built to house one traumatised child and his butler. And even as an adult, an adult with too many secrets, the house swallows him whole when he’s alone. 

After a few moments, the person’s eyes flutter and open to reveal two sleepy deep blues. He blinks at Gladio, then wipes at his mouth with one hand and reaches across the small space between them with his other to run it through the older’s tousled hair. 

“Good morning,” Noctis mumbles, a sad smile playing on his lips, “Been up long?” 

“Nah,” Gladio dismisses easily, then leans forward to kiss the half asleep man next to him. 

Noct hums and leans into it, before pulling back and resting his forehead against his partner’s, “Good morning.” 

“You’ve said that already,” Gladio notes, voice rumbling, “You can stay in bed a little longer. I’ll go and see if Jared’s made breakfast yet.” 

Noct nods, not saying what doesn’t need to be said, and kisses the bulky man once more before watching him crawl out of bed in nothing but a pair of boxes. He studies the huge tattoo that hugs Gladio’s torso, an eagle whose wings wind down his arms with it’s head nestled over his shoulder. It gets obscured, however, as Gladiolus pulls on the pyjama pants discarded the night before, and a robe, before ducking out of the dark master bedroom. 

As Gladio shuffles down the corridor, he hears noises coming from the barely used dining room through the archway near the bottom of the stairs. He pads down them and into said room, spotting his butler setting the table. 

“Jared?” 

Jared turns at his name, and smiles the same sad smile Noct had when he’d first woken up, “Good morning, Gladiolus.” 

“I never eat in here,” Gladio comments. 

Jared’s ears go red, and the old butler clasps his hands in front of him, “Yes, well... Noctis is here, and Ignis is due to arrive today too, so I thought...” 

Gladio waves a hand, “It’s fine, Jared. Thanks.” 

Jared nods, and leaves the room quickly. Gladiolus sighs deeply and braces his arms against the grand table. 

One whole year. 

It barely feels as if he’s been gone at all. 

But still... 

Warm arms wrap around his waist from behind, and Gladio finds himself leaning back into the smaller body. 

“I got bored of waiting,” Noct states, nuzzling into Gladio’s back, “You thinking about him too?” 

Mouth dry, Gladiolus nods and closes his arms over Noct’s, “Yeah. Iggy should be here soon.” 

Noctis doesn’t say that they both know that’s not what he meant, and instead jumps on the change of conversation, “Exactly. I should get ready.” 

“Share a shower with me?” 

The couple shower and get ready with few distractions between them, and Jared doesn’t mention how the pair of them must have been under the water for a while after it had gone cold. 

It’s during breakfast that Gladio’s mind wanders once more, to the third placement set at the table for Ignis, and then the fourth that’s always there for... 

“Is Iris staying with you?” Noct asks. 

“Not at the moment. She’s staying with Monica this weekend. I made her take a break from being Robin.” Gladio pauses, “D’you ever miss it?” 

“Being Robin?” Noct raises an eyebrow, “Sometimes, I guess. Mostly I miss being around you. Being here. But Insomnia doesn’t need me anymore. Insomnia needs Robin.” 

“Not Nightwing?” 

“Nope. Nightwing has his own gig now, and crime rates in Galahad are better than ever.” 

Gladiolus cracks a smile, “Yeah? Well, Batman misses Nightwing sometimes.” 

Noctis goes soft, and he holds his hand across the table for Gladio to take, “I’m sorry. I really should visit more often.” 

“It’s been hard on all of us. Iggy’s around a lot. But it’s not the same when it’s not all of us.” 

“Yeah,” Noct says, “I know.” 

They don’t talk about the way their hands shake as they resume their breakfast, or how their eyes linger on the empty placement opposite them when Jared comes in to clear the plates. They don’t talk at all as they shuffle into the lounge and collapse on one of the sofas together. 

It’s almost eleven when there’s a heavy knock on the door that makes Noct jump. 

“I’ve got it,” Gladio mumbles, putting his book down and pushing Noct out of his lap so he can stand. He passes Jared on his way to the front door, the butler nodding politely at his charge. 

Gladiolus unlocks the door and pulls it open to find a familiar face stood on his doorstep, a suitcase by his feet and a cane in his hand. The taller smiles, pulling the man into the manor in a tight hug that makes the newcomer hum in surprise. 

“Iggy,” Gladio breathes, “Hey.” 

“Hello,” Ignis returns, squeezing the hug back, “How are you?” 

“Yeah,” Gladio replies, grabbing Ignis’ suitcase and closing the front door. Ignis scrunches his nose at the poor answer, but doesn’t ask for a better one as he lets Gladio take his arm and guide him through the manor. 

Noctis sits up on the sofa when the lounge door reopens, “Ignis!” 

Ignis turns his head in the direction of his name and smiles that same sad smile, “Noctis, hello.” 

“Room is the same, Iggy,” Gladio adds, “Sofas to your ten o’clock and two o’clock, Noct is at your one. I’m just gonna put your bag somewhere.” 

Ignis nods and steps further into the room without guidance, reaching his hand out for Noct when he feels he’s close enough. Noct takes his hand as soon as it’s offered to him, and tucks himself against Ignis with his head on the taller’s chest; right over his heart. 

Ignis tilts his head and presses a kiss to Noct’s forehead with practiced ease, and Noctis leans up to catch his lips before returning his head to Ignis’ chest. That’s how Gladio finds them when he comes back; wrapped around each other in the middle of the lounge. 

“Coffee, Ignis?” He offers, watching said man turn towards him. 

“No, thank you, I had one on the way over.” 

Gladiolus nods, even though Ignis can’t see him, and sits back on the sofa. Noct leads Ignis over, and sits himself against Gladio’s chest with Ignis lying in his lap. They’re quiet, with Noct combing his fingers through Iggy’s hair and Gladio’s head on his shoulder. Until Ignis takes a deep breath. 

“So, it’s been a year.” 

Noctis’ breath catches in his throat, and Gladiolus stiffens. Neither of them have ever been any good with words; Gladio reads too many books to know how to directly talk about his feelings, and Noct has always been a bit of a social recluse. Ignis may be impersonal when it comes to emotions, but he was raised to always get straight to the point. Without Ignis, they never would have broached the conversation they desperately needed to have. 

“Yeah,” Noct agrees, “It still doesn’t feel real.” 

Gladio swallows around the lump in his throat and tightens his hold on Noct. 

“Gladio?” Ignis asks when the man doesn’t reply. 

“It’s not fair,” Gladio mumbles, “It should have been me.” 

“Glad, no.” 

“You know that’s not true.” 

“No, if I’d have just—“ Gladio’s voice breaks and chokes back a sob, “If I’d have just done what he said— if I’d have killed him when I had the chance—“ 

“Gladio, it’s no one’s fault,” Noctis insists, “You didn’t have to kill the Joker. It was his— it was Prompto’s decision to go after him.” 

No one replies, and no one comments on how Noct’s voice cracks on Prompto’s name. It’s the first time they’ve said his name for the better part of a year, after all. They would be fools to believe finally facing what had happened would be easy. 

Gladiolus sniffles and wipes his eyes on his sleeve, “Yeah. Yeah I know. But if I’d have killed the Joker then, Prom never would have gone after him. He would have had another ‘tomorrow’, and we’d never had gotten that _fucking tape—_ ” 

“Gladiolus,” Ignis’ voice is sharpened clear, and cuts through the atmosphere like a knife, “It’s been a year. It happened. There’s nothing we can do about it. We have to move on, and carry on protecting Insomnia for as long as we can.” 

“I refuse to just forget about him.” 

“Did I say to forget?” Ignis snaps, “No. Of course not. He was a major part of our lives, and always will be. But you can’t keep blaming yourself for this. It’s time to move on, Gladio.” 

Gladio shakes his head and pushes Noct off his lap so he can stand up. He breathes for a second, and looks like he’s about to retort, before he changes his mind and walks out the room. 

Ignis clicks his tongue when he hears the door shut. 

“He feels bad,” Noctis murmurs. 

“I know he does,” Ignis agrees, sitting up and out of Noct’s lap, “He’s a hard man to get through to. But this isn’t his fault.” 

“Should I go and talk to him?” 

“No, I’ll go,” Ignis reaches a hand out to cup Noct’s face, brushing his thumb over the smaller’s cheek before tugging him in to kiss him slowly, “I’ll be back shortly. Maybe we can put a movie on for a bit, take our minds off things.” 

“Okay,” Noct whispers, leaning into Ignis’ hand before the older man pulls away. 

Grabbing his cane from the floor, Ignis retraces his steps out of the room and taps his way to the staircase. He climbs it, and carefully makes his way down the corridor until he reaches where about a door should be. He feels along the wall until he reaches the door frame. 

“Gladio?” He asks openly. 

“Yeah, Igs,” A quiet voice answers, “On the far side of the bed, about ten steps in front of you.” 

Ignis hums at the directions and feels along of the edge of the large bed. He sits on the end when he finds it, propping his cane against the wall and sitting with his feet up on the still rumpled duvet. 

“I apologise if I was too harsh,” Ignis starts. 

“No, no, it’s me, I’m sorry,” Gladio interrupts, “I shouldn’t have been so stubborn, I—“ 

“You’re blaming yourself again,” Ignis cuts him off, “Stop it. I know it’s hard, it’s hard on all of us, but that’s why we’re here. Why Noct came back to Insmonia, why I left my uncle’s home. We need each other right now. We need each other more than Insmonia needs Batman, or Robin, or Nightwing, or Oracle.” 

Gladiolus chuckles, “That’s an awful lot.” 

“Maybe I’m just speaking for myself, then,” Ignis muses, “I definitely couldn’t do this by myself. Can... can I confess something to you?” 

“Yeah, of course. Anything, Igs.” 

“Sometimes... I don’t think I even remember what he looks like.” 

“Iggy...” 

“No, I know, but... I lost my sight a year before we lost him. It’s been two years since I’ve seen his face, and I fear I may stop being able to picture him altogether.” 

“I don’t know what to say, Igs.” 

Ignis smiles weakly, adjusting his dark visor just for something to do, “Neither do I. I’ve wished for my sight back a million times since I’ve lost it, and of course I still do, but when you described that tape to me...” 

Gladio’s eyes dart to the bedside table where he knows that tape is, where it’s sat since he watched it time and time again in a single night. Where he has put it away and hasn’t touched it since, but knows the whole video by heart, ingrained into his memory. 

“Gladio?”

Gladiolus coughs to clear his throat, blinking quickly, “Yeah. Me too.” 

Ignis reaches out a hand that Gladio quickly takes, linking their fingers together tightly and squeezing. 

“You’re not going out tonight, are you?” 

Gladiolus pauses, breathing deeply, “... I’m not going to sleep anyway. And I didn’t patrol last night.” 

“I didn’t come all the way down just to coach you through some back alley street fights,” Ignis snaps firmly. 

“I wasn’t going to ask you to. Same way I wasn’t going to ask Noct to come with me.” 

“Gladio, please. Stay in tonight. You said that Prompto won’t get another ‘tomorrow’. Make sure that you do, at the very least.”

He hears a big sigh, then Gladiolus answers, “We’ll see. I’ll probably stay.”

“Good,” Ignis says quietly, “I said to Noct that we could put a movie on this afternoon.” 

Gladio nods even though Ignis can’t see him, “Yeah. That sounds good.” 

——————————

It starts raining around midnight. Drops of water slamming onto the ground like bullets, making the backroad muddy and unstable. He falls a couple of times when his foot slips, each time hurrying back to his feet to keep moving. His arms are slick with mud, and it’s probably smeared on his face and matted in his hair as well. But he can’t find himself to care. 

He knows this backroad, he’s been down it thousands of times before, but never on foot. He’s never had to come down here on foot, he’s always had his motorbike or if not... there was a car, he recalls. 

He knows he’s getting somewhere when he sees the waterfall. He remembers the waterfall clearly, loud and pounding down the cliff face. He tries to quicken his pace but stumbles again in the mud. He has to get in there. He’d executed a rough escape plan without thinking about where he would escape to. His body feels numb and his head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. The only clear thought in his head is the waterfall. 

He remembers the waterfall. 

It drenches him further when he passes under it, and comes out coughing and spluttering on the other side. His hair is plastered to his face and neck, and he’s struggling to breathe through the suffocating water that clings to his clothes and skin. 

The other side of the waterfall is dry and open. He wipes the water from his eyes and looks around. He’s standing on a large metal platform in an open plan cave, connected to other platforms by stairs and bridges. Next to him is his motorbike, painted a deep rustic red. He remembers that. Sitting beside it is some sort of car, matte and black, clearly armoured and fortified. It’s vaguely familiar. On the far side of the platform is another motorbike, but this one is sleek and black with royal blue accents. He doesn’t recognise that one at all. 

He stumbles further into the cave, up a small fight of metal steps and to another platform with what seems to be a super computer in front of a tall backed wheeled chair. He approaches it, slowly, and reaches out to the keyboard. He hesitates before touching it. 

It doesn’t feel right, messing with the computer. It’s not his to touch, so why should he? But its many monitors and buttons are the only things lighting up the dim cave. It’s the only thing he’s able to interact with, besides his bike, and where would he go if he took that? 

He touches the keyboard. 

Instantly, the cave is filled with flashing red lights and loud sirens. He recoils from the computer and slams his hands over his ears, trying anything to dampen the noises making his head throb and his eardrums cower. 

He looks around for the waterfall, and sees just in time as a huge metal door shuts on it, leaving him stranded on the metal islands distributed throughout the cave. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, senses too overwhelmed to make sense of anything. 

He turns on his heel to try another island, hands still clamped over his ears. The last thing he remembers is a sharp pain at the back of his head before the sirens died out, and so did the rest of the world. 

——————————

“I’m sorry!” Noctis wails loudly, dropping the metal tray that he’d grabbed from the kitchen as they’d passed. They’d fallen asleep in the lounge halfway through their second movie, a mess of entangled limbs and sweaty pyjamas. There had been a panic when the Batcave’s alarms were triggered, giving Jared a small heart attack when the three of them had bolted down to the secret passage only half dressed and still half asleep. 

The stranger had crumpled to the floor face down as soon as Noct had smacked him with the food tray, probably with more force than was necessary as per the way Noct did things. He looks like a mess, Gladio has to admit as he quickly cancels the alarms. 

He’s more skinny than lithe, it looks almost unhealthy, and the tatted clothes are loose and cling to his body with rainwater. He’s covered in grime from his head to his foot, and his hair has been so waterlogged Gladio can hardly tell what colour it’s supposed to be. 

“Go and help Iggy,” Gladio grunts, and Noct scarpers away to give said man a hand down the steps. 

“Is he dead?” Noct asks in a hushed voice, “Please don’t tell me he’s dead.” 

Gladio sighs deeply and moves to crouch next to the intruder, “Hey, man, you good?” He gently grasps his shoulder and rolls him onto his back. His stomach drops and his rips his hand away like he’s been burnt, trembling harshly. “Fuck. _Fuck_.” He scrubs a hand down his face to try and wake himself up more, like the Batcave’s alarms didn’t already dispel any tiredness clinging to his limbs, because he has to still be dreaming. 

“I can’t have killed him,” Noctis mutters to himself, “I’m _Nightwing_. I don’t kill people.”

Gladiolus sits back on his heels, a hand pressed over his mouth. He can feel his heart beating hard against his rib cage, and tears pushing behind his eyes as he stares down at the unconscious body on the floor. He’s still breathing, chest rising and falling steadily, but his face is covered in red nicks and white scars; most of them small with the exception of the one slicing just under his right eye and halfway across the bridge of his nose. But Gladio can still see his freckles, scattered over the rest of his face and down his neck until they’re obscured by his clothes. They’re faded, like he hasn’t seen sun in a long time, but they’re still there. 

They’re still there. 

He’s still there. 

“Gladio?” Ignis asks when the silence stretches on for too long. 

“I...” His voice fails him, just as he predicted, “It’s... Prompto.” 

“He’s lost it,” Noct deadpans. 

“Gladio, I know you’re upset—“ Ignis begins but he gets cut off quickly. 

“Noct, come here.” 

Noct grumbles but does as he’s told, leaving Ignis’ side to stand at Gladio’s shoulder instead. Gladio grabs his hand when he’s close enough and squeezes it tightly. Noctis chokes on his breath. 

“What kind of sick...?” Noct hisses out through grit teeth, then drops to his knees with a wince, “It’s impossible.” 

Ignis, always analytical and calm, takes a step closer to the sound of their voices, “Describe him to me.” 

Noctis swallows thickly, “He’s skinny as fuck. Like, he’s tiny. He’s got scars pretty much... everywhere. I’m fairly sure some of them are from a knife or a blade, but some are definitely burns. Some of them look recent, but he’s not bleeding or anything. Uh... his hair is longer, but he’s so wet I can’t really tell how long it is for sure. He has a lot of stubble as well, but it’s pretty fair so you can hardly tell it’s there. I didn’t know he could even grow facial hair. He’s still wearing those stupid wristbands as well.” Noct huffs to himself, ignoring the wetness at his eyes and takes Prompto’s arm so he can slide the wristbands away. He can’t ignore how badly he’s trembling. “Fuck... that sick son of a bitch.” 

“Noct,” Ignis reinforces. 

Noctis shakes his head and elbows Gladio. 

“There’s a burn on his arm, under his wristbands,” Gladio supplies, “Indented into his skin. It’s the letter ‘J’. Just like in the tape.”

Ignis curses under his breath, a rare thing that would normally either have Noct and Gladio in stitches or in awe. Today, they barely even register it. 

“And it is definitely...?” 

“It’s definitely Prompto. I’m sure.” 

With a deep sigh, Ignis folds his arms over his chest, “Gladio, get him off the floor. Noct, go and fetch some blankets and a first aid kit from Jared.” 

Noctis bolts from the Batcave instantly, feet stomping across the metal bridges as he heads back to the staircase up to the Manor. Gladio stands up with Prompto in his arms, spotting the medical cot near the edge of the barrier from the last time he’d patrolled and been shot. 

He gently lays Prompto’s body along the cot, propping him on his side just in case he threw up when he came to. Noct _had_ hit him pretty hard. 

Ignis follows the Batcomputer’s desk with his hand until he comes up behind Gladio, smoothing a hand across his shoulders before wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“How is he?” 

“He looks a mess, Iggy,” Gladio replies, “This is impossible.” 

“We can discuss the possibility of this once he’s dry and awake,” Ignis tells him, “Hopefully, he’ll be able to fill in some of the blanks for us.” 

“He died. I saw him die. I watched Joker point a gun towards his head and—“ 

Ignis shushes him quickly, pressing his lips against the nape of his neck where his cotton soft tank top didn’t cover, “We can think about it later. Right now, all that matters is that by some miracle, Prompto is back in our lives. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?” 

Gladiolus nods with a low hum, covering Ignis’ arms with his own as he listens to pounding footsteps rushing towards them from behind. 

Ignis pulls away when the footsteps stop and he can hear Noct breathing heavily beside him, “Give the blankets to Gladio and put the first aid kit on the end of the cot, then sit down.” 

Noct makes a strangled noise, already half through doing what he’s told, “What, why?” 

“I heard you land on your knee, and you just sprinted across to the Manor and back again, now sit down.” 

He grumbles but hands the blankets off to Gladio and goes to sit in the leather computer chair opposite the Batcomputer, making it roll back a little as he gets himself comfortable. 

Ignis moves towards the cot and feels in front of him to take Prompto’s hand, gently counting each of his fingers before moving his touch up his arm and to his shoulder, carefully mapping out every cut, graze, and raised scar that marks his skin. The cotton of his shirt is sodden with rain water, but Ignis doesn’t linger on it as he feels his way up to cup the edge of his face, stubble scratching the palm of his hand, then dances his fingers across the bridge of nose until he follows the ridge of the scar under his eye that definitely wasn’t there the last time they’d been together. 

With a small sigh through his nose, Ignis pulls his hand away, “We shouldn’t move him too much incase he has injuries we don’t know about, and I don’t feel like it would be wise to start checking under his clothes in case he comes to and panics. If he set off the Batcave’s alarms, I can only assume that he wasn’t aware enough of his surroundings. Unless either of you with a working pair of eyes can tell something I can’t?” 

Gladio shifts beside him, “He’s not bleeding through his shirt, or anything. Most of the injuries look a few days old, at least.” 

“Then we wait until he wakes before we start moving. Gladio, the blankets...?” 

——————————

Prompto comes to slowly, with dim light seeping into the edges of his vision and low voices that he could have sworn were part of the dream he couldn’t remember having. The ache in his ribs sets in and he can _hear_ his head throbbing. He tries to shift, frowning when all his limbs feel like lead and fail to cooperate. Groaning, he opens his eyes and squints against the natural light. 

The voices fall silent. 

Once his eyes adjust, he realises that part of the reason why he can’t move is because he’s been thoroughly bundled up with blankets that have trapped his limbs completely. He frowns down at them angrily, then tries to move again. 

“Hey, careful. You’ll hurt yourself.” 

He looks away from the blankets in favour of the person who spoke, and watches as someone he recognises - someone familiar who he _trusts_ \- walks over to him with open palms to help dislodge the blankets. 

“Are you okay?” Noctis asks, his hands trembling and his eyes filled with tears which makes Prompto frown even more, “How’re you feeling?” 

There’s movement just outside of Prompto’s peripheral vision but he can’t bring himself to look away from Noctis. _Noct_ in sleep soft pyjamas with messy hair and who is clearly favouring his right leg as he stands in front of where Prompto is laying. But he’s _here_ , in Insomnia, where he should be in Galahad. That’s where he lives and breathes and works. Why is he back in Insomnia? 

The world gets that much worse when the second figure approaches from Noct’s left with a glass of water. 

Prompto’s heart jumps into his throat and he forces himself to sit up, making his head throb and the rest of his body protest with pain. There’s no way he’d be able to run away from this, not with last night under his belt, so he musters enough of his remaining strength to grit out, “Fuck you.” 

Gladiolus at least has to decency to look shocked, “Prompto?” 

Noct frowns, “Prom, it’s Gladio. It’s okay.” 

“I know who it is,” Prompto hisses, voice scratchy and weak but still sharp, “You fucking left me, fuck you.” 

A third person walks over to Gladiolus’ other side, using a hand along the medical cot Prompto is on to guide himself, “Tell us what you’re feeling, we can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong.” 

“Iggy,” Prompto’s face softens, “Ever the adviser, huh? You haven’t changed.” 

“You should drink something. You’re only going to damage your throat if you keep talking.” 

Reluctantly, Prompto takes the glass of water Gladio offers him again and drinks the whole thing in one go, sloshing some of it over the edge of the glass in his haste and spilling it on his lap but he can’t bring himself to care. He hands the glass back afterwards, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He gently rearranges himself on the cot so that his legs are swung over the side rather than having them outstretched in front of him. 

“How come you’re all here?” He asks after a moment, “Did... did you move back in?” 

It’s more directed to Noct, who shakes his head, “No, I’m still in Galahad. We just... you’ve been gone for a year, Prom. A year yesterday.” 

Prompto shakes his head, then stops when it makes him dizzy, “I’ve been gone for more than year.” 

“There was a tape,” Noct says quickly, “We got a tape, a year ago yesterday, and—“ 

“Noctis,” Ignis interrupts sharply, “Not right now, okay? Prompto, do you feel okay enough to move?” 

With a frown at whatever Noct had been trying to tell him, Prompto hums an affirmation and pushes himself to his feet. But then the ground rushes up to meet his face and everything goes black again. 

——————————

“He just needs rest,” Ignis says for what feels like the millionth time that day when Noct whines about wanting to see Prompto, “He’s tired and dehydrated, and I dread to think when the last time he had a proper meal was. We all want to talk to him, but he needs to sleep this off.” 

Noctis sighs but let’s go of the door handle. It had been hours since Ignis had looked over Prompto with Jared’s help to make make sure he had no outlasting injuries that could have caused him to collapse again. When they hadn’t found anything, they put it down to Prompto just needing rest, and had gotten Gladio to carry him back to his room. 

They all had their own rooms in the Amicitia Manor. Noctis had moved in with Gladiolus and Jared when he was thirteen and Gladio was sixteen, after his parents had been killed in an ‘accident’ at the circus. Regis Lucis Caelum and Clarus Amicitia were close friends when they were alive, hence why Jared took Noct in after his parents died. 

Ignis, who was fifteen at the time, and Gladio were already dating by then. Ignis “moved in” to the Manor when he was eighteen, a year after Gladio and Noct had started being Batman and Robin, but he still had his own apartment that he never got around to selling. His own alias, Hunter, joined them around that time as well. 

Prompto was Noct’s high school best friend, and he finally moved into the Manor when he was nineteen. Incredibly shy and nervous, Prompto only really came out of his shell when he stumbled across the Batcave. Noctis was in the transition stage between Robin and Nightwing, and Prompto had jumped at the opportunity to take his place. 

They were Batman, Nightwing, Hunter, and Robin for three years. Around halfway through that period, they became Gladiolus, Noctis, Ignis, and Prompto as well, following a drunken evening after one extreme Christmas party. Then, a year after, Ignis lost his sight and retired his superhero alias when _someone_ used him as a target to get to the Insomnia City Police Department’s commissioner, Ignis’ uncle. Hunter had been retired and instead Ignis created a new identity in Oracle. 

Piece by piece, they drifted apart slightly over the course of the next year. Noctis left Insomnia and took Nightwing to Galahad when their crime rates got too high. Gladio threw himself headfirst into being Batman, meaning he was out pretty much constantly. Ignis was recovering from his injury, and was in and out of hospital for rehabilitation. Then one day something happened and Prompto just... changed slightly. He snapped more, pushed further. And then he vanished in the middle of the night. 

They hadn’t touched their separate rooms since. 

Whenever Gladio, Ignis, and Noct had stayed in the Manor, whether together or not, they all ended up crashing in Gladio’s room for the night. Their separate rooms were only used for changes of clothes and other belongings. Prompto’s room stayed untouched. 

Which is why it feels so unnatural for Noct to have even considered going in there, with his hand sliding off of the door handle. He turns towards Ignis and buries his head in the taller man’s shoulder. 

Ignis raises a hand to scratch his fingernails gently though the ends of Noct’s hair, and winds his other arm around the younger’s waist, “He’ll be fine. The worst he could possibly have would be some bruising on his ribs, which he just needs to rest to let them heal. Once he’s awake again, we’ll order some food and talk about what’s happened, _if_ \- and only if - Prompto feels up to it.” 

Noctis mutters something into the fabric of Ignis’ shirt, closing his eyes with a small sigh. 

“Speak up, Noct.” 

“I said; why d’you think he had such a bad reaction to Gladio?” 

Ignis rests his cheek on top of Noct’s head, “Honestly? It could be anything. He’s been alive this whole time, maybe he blames us for not coming to find him. Or maybe he’s been manipulated by Joker into blaming us for something that never happened.” 

“But he doesn’t blame us,” Noct points out, “He blames Gladio. He spoke to me, at least a little, and he listened to you when you told him to drink something. What did Gladio do that was so bad?” 

“I don’t know. All we can do is ask when he wakes up.” 

Noctis sighs again and pulls out of Ignis’ embrace, “Have we told anyone that he’s back yet? Other than Jared, I mean. Like... should I call Iris? Or Luna? Cindy?” 

“The less people who know about his return, the better, I think. At least at the moment. You know Lunafreya only allies herself with whoever can help her the most, and Cindy only works for herself.” 

“Luna’s my childhood friend, Iggy.” 

“And what if someone comes along who can offer her more scientific aid that we can, and their condition is information on the Batman?” Ignis pushes his sunglasses up his nose, “We both know what she’d do. Saving Nyx will always be her priority, Noct. Even over finding a more comfortable way for her survive in normal temperatures.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re always right. I just...” Noctis sighs again, folding his arms over his chest, “I feel like we should tell someone, y’know? This is a big deal. What about Iris?” 

“Who knows how he’ll react to Iris, based on how he reacted to Gladio? Especially if he realises she replaced him.” 

“Good point,” Noct frowns, “I didn’t think about that.“ 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Ignis smiles, and feels Noct take his hand and squeezes it gently, “Let’s stop loitering outside his door and find where Gladio has wandered off to.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Noct agrees, grabbing Ignis’ cane from where he’d leant it against the wall and hands it over to the man, “Do you think we’ll be able to finish the movie from earlier?” 

“I’m willing to bet an awful lot that you and Gladio will fall asleep again, but yes. I don’t see why not.”

——————————

Prompto doesn’t leave his room until the next morning, and is already sat at the dining table when Gladiolus walks past the door when he gets back from his run. He doubles back immediately, and hovers awkwardly in the doorframe. 

Prompto is dressed in his old clothes, black jeans and a red hoodie, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast. His hair is clean and fluffy, but still in need of a cut, and he’s shaved as well. There’s an entire rack of toast in the middle of the table with an assortment of spreads to go with it that Jared must have put out earlier that morning. About a quarter of it has already been eaten. 

The blond looks up slowly, blue eyes tired and not as alert as he usually is. He swallows the food he has in his mouth and says, “Iggy’s on the phone with someone. He’s in the lounge.” 

“Right,” Gladio stutters, amazed at how normal the whole scenario is. Just over a year ago, seeing Prompto sitting at the dining table in the mornings would be completely expected. Gladio would kiss him on the top of his head and steal some toast as he went past on the way to the shower, and Prompto would giggle and say something about Noct being asleep or Ignis having started work. Today, Gladio can’t bring himself to look away or move at all. 

Prompto arches his brow, “What’s up? Gonna say what you’re thinking, or are you just gonna keep staring at me, you weirdo?”

Gladio settles for, “How’re you feeling?” 

“Like I slept for a week,” Prompto shrugs, shoving the rest of his toast in his mouth in one go and standing up. He walks past Gladio and out of the room. 

“Where are you going?” Gladio asks. 

The blond stops and turns on his heel, “Back to my room? I only got up because I was hungry. If you see Jared, tell him I said thanks.” 

Without thinking, Gladio grabs the top of Prompto’s arm before he can slip away again. 

Prompto stiffens instantly, “Let go.” 

“We haven’t seen you in a year and you won’t say two words to us? What’s up with that?” 

“Let go, please.” 

“We’re worried, Prom. Talk to us.” 

Prompto swallows nervously, then rips his arm out of Gladio’s grasp and bolts back up the stairs. A few seconds later, a door slams shut. 

Gladio frowns, scrubbing a hand down his face as the door to the lounge opens soon after. 

“What was that?” Ignis asks, pocketing his phone and leaning in the doorframe. 

“That,” Gladio sighs, “Was Prompto running back to his room.” 

“What happened? He seemed okay this morning.” 

“You talked to him?” 

“Briefly,” Ignis nods, running a hand through his hair that hadn’t yet been gelled up like it normally is. He’s dressed down for once, with the top few buttons of his shirt undone and the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms. He isn’t wearing his sunglasses either, and Gladio can see the scars sealing his left eye and slicing the bridge of his nose. His less damaged eye is milky white and is looking somewhere in Gladio’s direction. After all the time Ignis spent recovering, he manages to always know who’s near him and where they are by the way they sound. “He said he was hungry, and I heard Jared in the kitchen so I told him to ask for some breakfast. My uncle called, so I left him in the dining room.” 

“He wouldn’t talk to me, he kept being evasive.” 

“So...?” 

“So I grabbed his arm when he tried to make a run for it.” 

Ignis sighs tiredly, closing his eye and folding his arms over his chest, “Gladio. Prompto has been alive for the past year. I can only assume the reason he didn’t seek us out earlier is because _someone_ —“ And although he didn’t say a name, they both knew who. “—has been holding him.” 

“I shouldn’t have grabbed him.” 

“No.” 

Gladio rubs at his eyes, “Shit. I’m no good at this stuff.” 

“Come here.” 

“I’m sweaty.” 

“I said; come here, Gladiolus.”

He winces slightly as his full name, but walks the width of the open area between the dining hall and the lounge, stopping just within arms reach of Ignis. The blind man reaches out and feels up Gladio’s arm until he cups his jaw in his hand. He strokes his thumb over Gladio’s cheek, and feels the taller man turn his head so his lips brush against Ignis’ palm. 

“I should apologise,” Gladio murmurs. 

“Leave him for now, he’ll come to us when he’s ready,” Ignis returns just as quietly, “He’s scared. He’s been god knows where for the past year, and he’s holding a grudge against you for some reason. Depending on what he’s been through, he could be associating some of his trauma with you, for some unknown reason. Going after him now might make it worse.” 

Gladio takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes. 

“Oh, Gladio.” 

He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Ignis brushes the tears away with his thumb, bringing his other hand to Gladio’s face as well. He ducks his head, automatically finding Ignis’ shoulder after years of practice. Ignis threads a hand through Gladio’s hair, and rests the other on the back of his neck, thumb rubbing small circles into his skin gently as the taller starts to fall apart. 

“I’m sorry,” Gladio mutters wetly, “I’m sweaty.” 

Ignis chuckles softly, “You’re fine. You can shower soon.” 

“D’you reckon Noct’s awake yet?” 

“Maybe. Perhaps the door slamming shut woke him. But then again, he can sleep through anything.” 

Noct had jerked awake when the door had slammed, gathering his limbs from where he’d sprawled out across Gladio’s king sized bed. He sighs through his nose and rubs a hand over his face to try and wake himself up some before rolling over to find the digital clock on the bedside table. The green numbers illuminate part of the room in a neon glow, reading ‘8:32AM’. 

With a groan, he swings himself out of the bed, swaying on his feet slightly as he gets his bearings. The room is still dark (thank god for blackout blinds) and there’s items of clothing scattered across the floor. Noct shuffles around the bed and towards the door, noting the short path clear of obstructions from the other side of the bed to the hall that Gladio must have made for Ignis when he got up so the blind man didn’t trip over anything. 

Grabbing the silk black robe from the back of the ajar door, Noct slips it on and knocks the door the rest of the way open with his foot. The wooden floors of the hall are cold and wake him up considerably as he scans the doors to find out which one slammed. He can hear murmurings coming from downstairs, identifying one voice as Gladio and assuming that the quieter one is either Ignis or Jared. 

There is an open door policy at Amicitia Manor, there always has been. Gladio’s dad had shut doors whenever he wanted to keep his family out, and after his parents had been shot, Gladio had hated the sight of a closed door. So they always keep them open, unless someone really doesn’t want to be disturbed. 

Prompto’s door is the only one shut. 

Noct pads down to said door and knocks, yawning into his hand as he waits for a response. He listens to the movement coming from inside the room (the creaking of bedsprings as someone stands up, a desk chair rolling across the floor when it is pushed, bare feet tapping on wood) and watches the shadow dance in front of the crack under the door. 

Then it’s finally pulled open, not all the way, but enough for Prompto to peek around the doorframe. 

“G’morning,” Noct mumbles, taking in the sight of the blond. 

He’s barefoot like usual, and the sleeves of his hoodie are rolled up to his elbows. Noct can see his bracelets and wristbands on his right arm, as well as the poorly concealed ‘J’ burn that indents his skin and makes Noct’s stomach flip. 

“Hey,” Prompto returns, smiling a little but it fades quickly, “What’s up, man? Isn’t it early for you to be up?” 

“Yup,” Noct replies lazily, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. 

“What, you wanted to make sure I hadn’t run off or anything?” It sounds like it’s supposed to be a joke, but Prompto’s voice shakes a little as he says it and Noct fights to urge to reach out and touch him to reassure himself that he’s really here. 

“Any chance I can come in? We can talk about... anything. I can catch you up?” 

“I mean... sure. I’m pretty sure I’m mostly up to date, but...” 

Prompto opens the door fully and disappears back into his room. Noct follows him in. 

It’s been left untouched; with its pale blue walls and matching bedsheets, a bookcase stacked with comics and a white desk in the corner. Prompto sits himself down on the edge of his bed, duvet having been kicked to the bottom of the mattress at some point. Noctis wheels the desk chair over and curls up in it. 

“How’s your knee?” Prompto asks. 

Instinctively, Noct stretches his leg out and leaves it on the floor instead of sitting on it, “Y’know. Same old.” 

With a nod, Prompto lays back on his bed and stares up at the ceiling, “What d’you wanna talk about?” 

There are a million things Noct wants to talk about, a thousand questions he needs the answers to, but he doesn’t want to ask any of them. Not really. Not when he’s so scared of the responses. Prompto seems to pick up on this. 

“Or, I can ask you what I want to know?” 

“Go ahead.” 

There’s no hesitation, “How long did Gladio wait until he replaced me?” 

Everything clicks into place in Noct’s head. Prompto’s anger when he’d seen Gladio had been because of Iris. He must have thought he’d been abandoned; hell, he’d used the word _replaced_. Like he had been a child’s toy that had gone missing, and a new one had been bought to take it’s place. Like nothing had even happened. Like he was nothing. 

“He... he didn’t want to, Prom,” Noct says in a small voice, and looks down at his lap as he talks, “He was struggling alone, but he wouldn’t admit it. There was... an uprising at Arkham Asylum. Joker was creating Starscourge. It was so dangerous, he almost didn’t come home. I was in Galahad, and Iggy was over comms but... Two months after the uprising, Iggy and I managed to convince him to take on Iris.” 

“Iris,” Prompto echoes, then smiles up at the ceiling, “She’s good! She’s a good Robin. I mean, I’ve heard good things about her. Saving the world must be in the Amicitia’s blood, huh?” 

“We didn’t just... forget about you, y’know.” 

He doesn’t stop smiling for a second, “It’s okay if you did.” 

“We didn’t.” 

“Feels weird to know that he couldn’t cope alone though. Like, he spent so much time trying to persuade me to go home but in the end he still needed a Robin, even if it wasn’t me.” 

“Please don’t blame him. It’s not his fault.” 

Prompto’s smile falls but he doesn’t look away from the ceiling, “You weren’t there.” 

“I know. I know I wasn’t, and I’m so sorry. But... you’re not arguing with me. So what do you have against Gladio? I was so much worse. I was in Galahad! I wasn’t even in the city!” 

“He knows.” 

“I don’t think he does, Prom.” 

At that, Prompto sits up, “What do you mean?” 

“He was sad last night. After you passed out, he didn’t talk much. He went to bed early as well, and that never happens.” 

“Probably the guilt.” 

“I don’t think it is.” 

Prompto huffs and rolls his eyes, “How’s Cindy?” 

“If you tell me what he’s done wrong, maybe I can talk to him about it.” 

“And Miss Freeze too! Has she made any progress with Nyx?” 

“Prompto.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” He concedes, “Okay, buddy? It’s over and it happened, but I don’t have to be happy about it.” 

Noct grits his teeth, “But _what_ happened?” 

“Dude, if you’re just gonna keep grilling me you can go away. I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Noctis pushes himself to his feet with a sigh, “Fine. But come down for lunch, yeah? Hanging out with us had got to be better that being... wherever you’ve been for the past year.” 

Prompto nods and salutes him with two fingers, “Yessir.” 

He doesn’t.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Batman-typical violence, character death is mentioned in detail (but they didn’t actually die)
> 
> ICPD stands for Insomnia City Police Department, rather than GCPD which is Gotham City Police Department
> 
> Oh and Iggy’s uncle makes an appearance, his name is Falkor

Gladio punches the criminal in the face and he collapses next to his friends, cradling his head in his hands. 

“That’s all of them,” Noctis chirps as he hops down from a lamppost. His Nightwing costume is so different from his Robin. He’d traded out the reds and greens for black leather with the sigil of a bird over his chest in deep blue. He has a black domino mask obscuring half of his face and two escrima sticks strapped to his back. 

Gladio slings an arm around his shoulder once he’s close enough, “Six guys suspected of firearms trading.” 

“Three boxes of firearms.” 

“Three grand in cash.” 

“I’d say that is another closed case.” 

_“Does that mean you want me to call the ICPD with some coordinates?”_ Ignis’ voice crackles over the comms. 

“Go ahead, Oracle,” Gladio returns with a grin, pulling some zip ties out of his utility belt and handing some to Noct so they could start tying the criminals up just in case they regain consciousness while the police are on their way. 

After a few moments, Gladio hears Ignis speak again but it’s so quiet that the comms almost don’t pick it up at all. 

_“Anytime you feel like joining us, Prompto, you are more than welcome to.”_

He shoots a look over to Noct to see if he’d heard it as well, but Nightwing is either ignoring it or too caught up in what he’s doing to have noticed it. He grimaces and shifts so he’s no longer crouching and instead sitting on one of his feet with his other knee drawn up to his chin, still tying one of the unconscious thug’s hands together. 

“You okay, Nightwing?” Gladio calls softly. 

Noct nods and clambers back to his feet, leaning forward on his left knee for a moment to stretch it out, “I landed funny, that’s all.” 

“You wanna head back?” 

He shakes his head, hair blowing in the cold breeze, “I’ll be fine.” 

_“What’s wrong?”_ Ignis asks, _“The ICPD are on their way.”_

“Nightwing flaked his landing.” 

“I’m fine!” 

_“If your knee starts putting you in danger, then I want you to come back so I can check it over.”_

“I’ve got my knee brace on, I’m okay, I promise,” Noct grumbles, wiping the damp off of his gloves, “Did I hear Prompto?” 

There’s a beat, then, _“Hey, man.”_

Gladio’s heart flutters in his chest, and he’s sure Ignis gets an alert to say that his heart rate spiked. Prompto had hardly left his room since fleeing from Gladio and kicking Noct out. Ignis is the only one of them to have been able to have a full conversation with the blond without it turning uncomfortable. Both Gladio and Noct feel like they’re treading on eggshells. 

_“Are you still at the crime scene?”_ Ignis hums, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Gladio lies, wrapping an arm around Noct’s waist as he grabs his Batclaw from his belt and grapples them up to the roof of the nearest building. 

They pull apart as they land, and a separate radio channel dedicated to the ICPD crackles through their comms system, clearly signally that the cops had moved into their range. 

_“Apparently Nightwing is back in Insomnia.”_

_“No way. I thought he moved to Galahad.”_

_“He did, but there’s been sightings of him tonight with Batman.”_

_“Batman’s back?”_

_“He left?”_

_“Well, he hasn’t been around for like, the past week.”_

_“Gentlemen, can we keep this channel professional, please?”_

_“Sorry, sir.”_

“Your uncle is such a hardass,” Noct snickers, stretching with his arms above his head. 

Ignis doesn’t flinch, _“At least I have a surviving parental figure.”_

“Prompto has a surviving dad.” 

_“I’ll correct myself, then. Surviving parental figure of which I have a good relationship.”_

Gladio coughs to mask his laugh, catching the outraged look on Noct’s face.

Prompto splutters, _“Well, if your dad was an immortal terrorist with a league of assassins, you wouldn’t have a good relationship with him either!”_

Gladio almost forgets that Prompto had ever been gone. He sounds so normal over the transmission, exactly as he did before he got quiet. Before the turning point, when Prompto got colder towards all of them. He’d pushed boundaries, took risks. Then vanished all together after suggesting they take the fight to Joker now. 

He almost forgets that when he and Noct return to the Manor later that night, Prompto will most likely have taken himself off to his room once more. That Gladio’ll tumble into bed with Ignis and Noct, but it will still feel too empty because Prompto is asleep down the hall rather than with them.

But right now, in this moment, Gladio can forget that Prompto even left at all. 

——————————

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Ignis asks, tucking his cane under his arm so he can pull Noct into a hug. 

“We’ll be fine, it’s just one night,” Noct rolls his eyes but squeezes his arms around Ignis’ waist, “Have fun, don’t worry about us. We used to do this all the time, we’re only gonna watch shitty movies and eat junk food.” 

“No food in the bedroom,” Gladiolus reminds gruffly. 

“Duh,” Noct grins, kissing Ignis on the cheek and pulling away so he can do the same to Gladio, “Text me if you need us. We’ll be fine, won’t we, Prom?” 

Prompto nods from where he’s standing slightly behind Noct. He’d come out of his shell a bit more in the month since he’d turned up on their doorstep in the middle of the night, but he still hasn’t told anyone exactly where he’s been or what had happened in the year that he’s been missing. He seems to have made up with Noct since they argued in Prompto’s bedroom, although he still appears on edge whenever Gladio is in the room. Everyone constantly feels tense because of it. 

It had taken some convincing from Noct for Ignis to finally agree to go to the Halloween Masquerade with Gladio. They’re both expected to go, since Gladio is an Amicitia and had donated a lot of money from Amicitia Enterprises to host the event, and Ignis is Commissioner Scientia’s nephew, and arguably practically his son, and since the Commissioner couldn’t make it, Ignis had to be there instead. 

Noct probably could have bummed an invite somehow, but Prompto had flat out said he didn’t want to go, so the pair decided to stay at the Manor for the night instead. 

“We’ll come back if you ask us to,” Ignis reminds after a moment. 

“We know,” Noct repeats, “We’ll be fine.” 

Not entirely convinced but on the verge of running late, Gladio and Ignis finally head out to the Masquerade and leave Prompto and Noct alone. 

“Now what?” Prompto questions once the door is shut and locked. 

“You grab snacks, and I’ll grab a movie or three?” Noct suggests. 

The pair split up, Prompto heading into the kitchen to respectfully raid Jared’s cooking space. Gladio’s butler has headed back to visit his grandson, Talcott, for the Halloween weekend, but Prompto still feels like he shouldn’t be searching through the cupboards without permission. Still, he grabs two jumbo packets of crisps, and a carton of ice cream from the freezer with two spoons. Satisfied that they would be enough at least to start with, he goes to find Noct in the lounge. 

“Wait, we’re not staying in there?” Prompto frowns when Noct almost bumps into him walking out of the lounge. 

“Nah, the master bedroom has a TV,” Noct beckons, starting towards the staircase. 

“I dunno, Noct,” Prompto shuffles his feet, not following, “Gladio said no food in the bedrooms.” 

“We’ll be careful.” 

“Noct...” 

They both knew what Prompto meant without him directly saying it. The four of them had been together before Prompto went missing. But in the year that he’d been gone, the other three had gotten news of his death, and had mourned and moved on. Since his return, the dynamic of their group had become awkward and broken. Prompto hadn’t been in the master bedroom — their bedroom — since. It felt wrong. It felt like a puzzle piece that had been warped and bent, and doesn’t quite fit back into the place it had come from even though it _should_. 

“There’s more room to stretch out,” Noct insists, “C’mon. Please? For me?” 

Prompto sighs, but the ice cream is starting to melt and is getting his arm wet, so he concedes and follows the dark haired man up the stairs. 

Noct falls asleep halfway through the second movie. 

_“So! Tell me, tell me, Prompto! Who do you hate?”_

_“I...”_

_“Yes, go on. All eyes on you, my boy. Quite literally. Now, loudly for the camera, please.”_

_“I... I hate...”_

_“Any time now.”_

_“I hate the Batman.”_

_“Good, well done! We finally got there! You see this, Batman? Even one of your closest companions can be persuaded to hate you so easily! Now, Prompto, once more; who is the Batman?”_

_“The...”_

_“I know, it hurts. I’m sorry, but it’s just a little tough love! It will all get easier now that you’ve admitted to yourself exactly how you feel. Prompto. Who is the Batman?”_

_“His name... his name is—“_

Noctis wakes up to a gunshot. 

The room is mostly dark, with crumbs all over the bed that they’d neglected to clean up and the empty ice cream carton is on the floor with their spoons tucked inside it. The TV is on, however, and lights up half of the room in a faint glow that only seems to get brighter as Noct sits up and blinks himself awake quickly. 

Prompto is sat on the foot of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest and eyes transfixed on the flatscreen TV up on the wall. He doesn’t move an inch as Noct shifts. 

The TV shows a close up of a pale face with a sickening red grin painted over his mouth. He’s wearing a fedora over red hair, and is gesturing with a gun as he speaks. 

_“I do hate a tattletale!”_ He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, _“Honestly. Who wants to listen to spoilers? Now, listen closely, Batman. This is how easy it is for me to grab one of your... sidekicks, and tear them apart. Truly. Not long at all. Not hard at all. Here, one last look so you don’t forget.”_

The camera shakes as it’s dislodged from the tripod and pointed down at the white tiled floor where Prompto’s body is. His face looks drained and his hair is matted. There’s a pool blood coming from underneath him on the floor, and the way he’s landed clearly shows the inside of his wrist where a bloodied and burnt letter ‘J’ indents his skin. 

_“Keep this in mind, Batman,”_ The voice behind the camera says, _“No one is invulnerable.”_

Noct grabs the remote from in the bedsheets and pauses the tape. 

The room goes eerily silent other than Prompto and Noct’s shaky breathing. Neither of them move for what feels like forever, Prompto’s dead body stuck on the screen in front of them. 

“‘S kinda freaky seeing yourself get killed,” Prompto comments eventually, voice scratchy but sounding upbeat. 

“Why were you watching that?” Noct practically growls from where he’s still half leaning across the bed for the remote. 

“To be fair, it had my name on the ziplock bag.” 

He turns the TV off and plunges the room into complete darkness. He can still see Prompto’s silhouette move as he uses his sleeve to dry his eyes, though. 

——————————

The Halloween Masquerade happens every year, where important and/or rich people all dress up in stuffy suits with over-the-top masks to drink wine at the Citadel and talk about rich people stuff. For Gladio, this means making polite conversation with flirty journalists who badgered their way in and other snobs in suits who want to weasel some money out of him. For Ignis, this means being friendly with his uncle’s colleagues from the police force and trying not to get knocked over by drunken dancers. 

At twenty minutes past two in the morning, Gladio’s phone buzzes in his pocket. 

Excusing himself from the conversation he had been taking part in, he wanders away from the general party area and slips his phone out. 

On the screen reads two messages; 

_**Noct 2:21** _  
_Prompto watched the tape_

_**Noct 2:22** _  
_Can u come home pls_

He quickly taps out a reply, saying he’d get Ignis and they’d be home in half an hour, max, before pocketing his phone and scanning the party hall for said man. 

“Mr Amicitia, a dance?” 

Instead, he runs into a small blonde in a tight black dress with a low neckline and a cat half mask. 

“Cindy,” Gladio blinks, “I didn’t see you arrive.”

“I snuck in the back door,” Cindy purrs, “Don’ worry. I have an invite. A dance?”

“I have to go.” 

She leans in closer, lips next to his ear, “Secret stuff?” 

“Something like that.”

“Maybe I should come with you.” 

He grabs her wrist as she goes to pull him into a slow dance, “I really don’t have time tonight, Cindy. Keep out of trouble, okay?”

She frowns behind her mask, but respectfully takes a step back, “Alrigh’. Stay safe. I heard Noctis is back in the City, tell ‘im I said ‘hi’.”

“I’ll let him know,” Gladio promises, already turning away from her to continue looking for Ignis. 

“I saw that man o’ yours with the Commissioner,” Cindy supplies. 

“I thought the Commissioner couldn’t make it.”

“He pulled it out o’ the bag at the last minute. They’re at the table near the bar.”

“Thanks,” Gladio grunts, “Keep away from anything shiny.”

“Don’t worry,” She grins, “It’s this cat’s day off.” 

Rolling his eyes fondly, Gladio leaves the blonde and heads towards the bar like she suggested. True to her word, sat at one of the rounded tables is Ignis, in deep conversation with his uncle who looks over as he approaches. 

“Mr Amicitia,” The older man greets kindly, rising to shake Gladiolus’ hand firmly. 

“Commissioner Scientia,” Gladio returns, “I didn’t think you were going to make it.” 

“I managed to tie things up at the ICPD fairly quickly,” He smiles, gesturing to a nearby empty seat as he sits back down, “There wasn’t too much damage, thankfully. Something scared Penguin off before he could pull any triggers. I’m willing to put my money on the Batman again, but he was off before we could thank him. What can I buy you, Gladiolus?” 

“Oh, nothing, but thank you, sir,” Gladio waves off, staying standing, “I was wondering if I could steal your nephew, though.” 

Ignis frowns at his reference, tilting his head towards Gladio to show he’d heard him. 

“I _was_ hoping to ask his opinion on some reformation ideas for the ICPD.” 

“Uncle Falkor, I’m sure you can call me if we don’t see each other for the rest of the night,” Ignis supplies quickly. 

“Of course, I’m only messing with you,” Falkor chuckles, and stands once more when Ignis takes his cane from against the table, pushing himself to his feet. They hug briefly, before Falkor nods to Gladio, “You look after him.” 

“Uncle...”

“I always will, sir,” Gladio grins, then moves his hand to the small of Ignis’ back so the other man could feel where he is as they leave the bar area. 

“What’s the matter?” Ignis asks when they’re far away enough from the tables not to be overheard. 

“Noct texted, we need to head back. Prompto watched the tape.” 

“The tape of his death? How?” 

“I dunno. The texts are pretty short. You can stay if you want, I’m sure your uncle will give you a ride back.” 

“Not a chance,” Ignis retorts, elbowing Gladio in the ribs as they head towards the exit of the venue, “Call a taxi, you’ve had too much to drink to drive. We can come back for the car tomorrow.” 

“I’m not drunk,” Gladio grumbles, shivering when the cool night air hits his face the moment they step outside. 

“I don’t care. I’m not getting in a car with you if you’re over the limit.” 

They get a taxi fairly quickly, as it is still the middle of the night and the Masquerade isn’t due to end until around six in the morning, at the earliest. 

When they pull up at the Manor, all the lights are off. Ignis pays the driver while Gladio unlocks the front door, stepping into the darkened entrance way. 

“Noct?” He calls, tossing his keys on entrance table and shrugging his blazer off. 

Ignis follows him in, closing the door behind himself and feeling the wall for the light switch. 

The Manor is deathly quiet, which isn’t unusual, but Gladio doesn’t even get a reply when he shouts up the stairs. 

“You head up, I’ll check down here,” Ignis tells him, running a hand along Gladio’s shoulders as he passes. 

Gladio hums, and goes up the stairs two at a time. The hallway is pitch black, apart from the soft blue light coming from the floor a few doors down. Only once he gets closer does he see Noct sitting with his back against Prompto’s door, eyes wet and phone on his lap but left on the home screen. He looks up when Gladio walks over to him, offering a quiet, “Hey.” when he is close enough. 

“Hey,” Gladio returns just as softly, “What happened?” 

Noct shrugs, and his phone turns off. He switches it back on. “I fell asleep, and when I woke up he was watching that fucking video. We argued, he locked himself in his room, then I texted you.” 

Gladio leans over Noct’s head to knock on the door, “Hey, Prompto? You awake?” 

He hears shuffling in response, clearly signalling that the blond is still up, but gets no vocal reply and the door stays firmly shut. 

“Why was the tape in your room, Gladio?” Noct asks lowly, eyes trained on his phone screen. 

Gladio sighs and crouches down next to Noct, “I... I left it in the top drawer of the bedside table. I haven’t touched it in a year, I swear, I didn’t know what else to do with it.”

“The Batcave, for a start? Your study?” 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept it in the bedroom. Are you okay?” 

Noct nods slowly, the shifts to throw his arms around Gladio’s neck. The taller catches him by the waist, pulling him closer so they are both on the floor with Noct in Gladio’s lap. 

There is a creak at the top step, “Did you find them?”

“Yeah, Prompto’s in his room. Noct’s here.” 

“Hey, Iggy.” 

“Hello, Noct. You sound low down.” 

“We’re on the floor.” 

“Hang on,” Gladio grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, moving his hands to under Noct’s legs so he’s carrying the smaller man. Noct reaches over Gladio’s shoulder to tap Ignis’ chest, who takes his hand and squeezes it. 

“Let me try Prompto,” Ignis requests, “You two go to bed. I’ll be in shortly.” 

Noct smiles into Gladio’s neck when Ignis presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles before he’s carried into the master bedroom. Sighing to himself, Ignis feels across the wall for the dip where the door is, and knocks. 

“Prompto? It’s me, any chance I can come in?” 

There’s a beat, and a muffled voice from inside the room says, “Um, it’s all good, Iggy. I’m just gonna head to bed now. I’m sorry Noct called you back because of me.” 

“Don’t be,” Ignis replies, “It was dreadfully boring anyway. How was your night in?” 

Even if he couldn’t get Prompto to open the door, he could still get him talking. Not being face-to-face with someone stopped being an issue after Ignis lost his sight. He could still keep up a casual conversation through a closed door. 

“It was fine. We watched a movie.” 

“What movie?” 

“Indiana Jones.” 

Ignis smiles. The Indiana Jones series has always been a comfort series for Prompto. They hadn’t really touched the films since he went missing. 

“Did Noct fall asleep?” 

“Uh huh. He can’t stay awake to save his life. Oh. Tell Gladio I’m sorry for the mess. I guess we forgot to clean up. I know he says no food in the bedrooms.” 

“I’m sure it’s not a problem, but I’ll let him know.” He leans his shoulder against the wall. “We were talking in the cab ride back. How would you feel if we invited Iris over soon? Or maybe Cindy? You must be getting bored of only seeing us day in and day out.” 

Prompto chuckles uncertainly, “I-I dunno, man. Everyone thinks I’m dead, don’t they?” 

“They do,” Ignis states slowly, “But you’re clearly not. Everyone was devastated when they heard what had happened to you, Prompto. I know Cindy misses you a lot. And Lunafreya regrets not spending enough time with you. Of course, it’s up to you completely. Just let me know.” 

“Maybe... maybe Cindy. B-but no one else! And... don’t tell her I’m alive. Just... invite her over. And...” 

“If you feel up to seeing her, you can make that decision while she’s here,” He finishes, “I’ll talk to the others about it and let you know when we invite her.” 

“Thanks, Iggy,” Prompto sighs, and Ignis hears him lean back against the other side of the door, “I appreciate you talking to me, but... I really am gonna go to sleep now.” 

“Alright,” Ignis pushes away from the wall, “Goodnight, Prompto. Sweet dreams.” 

“Yeah. You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this part, Prompto mentions that his dad is immortal!! This gets talked about more in the next instalment, but for batman fans out there, Prompto’s dad is essentially Ra’s al Ghul (which puts Prom as Talia as well as Jason?? It’s weird but I promise it will make sense lol).


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: implied torture (not in much detail), a character tries to attack another character
> 
> Loqi is referenced once, he isn’t in the tags bcoz he isn’t relevant at all to the plot but he is basically the equivalent of Harley Quinn. 
> 
> Ravus is mentioned as well, he’s not tagged either, but he is Scarecrow. 
> 
> For my Batman: Arkham fans, Starscourge is the equivalent of the TITAN formula. It’s mentioned in this chapter, but I will talk about it more in the next part so don’t worry too much if it’s a little confusing

Prompto wakes up on the floor. The room is dark and cold, and his whole body aches like he’s just been hit by a car, or something bigger. He sits up, leaning against the wall, and scans the room. 

He’s alone; apart from the rat running up and down the wall opposite him. There’s a puddle of blood in the middle of the room with flies buzzing around it. There’s light coming from his left, and Prompto can look past the bars to the cell and out into the rest of the abandoned Asylum. 

The cell smells of sweat and blood, and Prompto starts to feel the bile rise in his throat. He’d been in Amicitia Manor. It’s a week after Halloween, and Ignis had set a date to have Cindy over for dinner. How did he get back here?! 

Aranea won’t touch Prompto or anything to do with him anymore, so it couldn’t be her. Which means... either Loqi or...

Prompto spots the crowbar near the back of the cell and grabs it before pushing himself to his feet. His ribs twinge just looking at it and his blood is still staining some of the metal, but he won’t hesitate to smash it against either clown’s skull if he sees Loqi or Joker. 

The cell door creaks open as soon as he touches it. 

He creeps out of the cell and further into the abandoned wing. The tiled walls are stained red, yellow, and brown, and Prompto dreads to think how they got so filthy in such a hygienic place. Even before the uprising at the Asylum, when it was actually still open and running, the place had been dirty and grimy no matter where you went. It only got worse after the uprising, when the Asylum was shut down. Prompto had still been kept under the Asylum even when all the “super criminals” and patients had been relocated to the half finished Arkham City, which had barely lasted four months before that was shut down as well, following a mass breakout. 

Most of the super criminals are still missing now, almost half a year later. 

Joker included. 

Prompto takes careful steps up the staircase, avoiding the creaky ones, until he comes out in the intensive care building. The door has been left unlocked, which is unusual, but Prompto isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

He tightens his grip on the crowbar and continues on. Hopefully if he can get outside, he can steal a boat and head back to Gotham. They must have brought him here on a boat, so there should be one waiting for him. Unless they flew by helicopter. Prompto can’t fly a helicopter. 

As he goes deeper into intensive treatment, he walks past a room with noises coming from inside. He backtracks, and looks around the doorframe. 

There is a workbench of some kind against the back wall, with someone sat in the chair with their back to the door. They’re working on building something. 

Prompto knows exactly who it is. 

The Joker hasn’t noticed him yet, wholly focused on whatever contraption he’s building in front of him. His fedora is on the workbench next to his arm, leaving his red hair looking odd without it on. Prompto doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s still got the clown makeup painted on his face, and the constant sick smile. 

Squeezing the crowbar and holding his breath, Prompto steps into the room. He misses the puddles on the tiled floor and he creeps around the back of the workbench. He stands behind the Joker, amazed that he’d gotten this far, and scared that it is all a trap and Loqi or Caligo are going to jump out at him at any second. 

He breathes out slowly, and swings the crowbar at the back of Joker’s head. 

——————————

Gladiolus hears the rush of wind from behind his ear, and drops what he’s doing to duck under whatever he’s being attacked with. He twists, and grabs the offending object before it collides with him, and slams other the end into the stomach of whoever is wielding it. 

Prompto wheezes when the air is knocked out of him and falls to his knees on the garage floor. He’s still dressed in his pyjamas, barefoot, and his hair is a mess from where he’d been asleep. Gladio looks between the blond on the floor gasping for breath and the lamp in his hand. 

“Prompto?” He questions, stomach dropping when he realises Prompto had just tried to attack him. 

The blond is shivering, and he looks up at Gladio with watery eyes, “Wh... Where am I?” 

Gladio puts the lamp down on the workbench, “You’re in the garage. What are you doing up? Why...? Never mind, are you okay?” 

“I... I was in the Asylum.” 

“Arkham Asylum? Prompto, the Asylum’s been shut for almost a year. You’ve been here for months, and you’ve definitely been here all night.” 

Prompto blinks a few times, trying to rid himself of whatever remnants of sleep still clung to him, “I was in the Asylum. I was trying to escape, I-I saw the Joker and I tried to attack him.” 

“You were dreaming,” Gladio realises, the knot in his stomach loosening now he knows that Prompto hadn’t been trying to attack _him_ , “It wasn’t real. You’re in the Manor, and you haven’t left. No one’s gotten to you, and the Joker is not here.” 

“Oh my god,” Prompto murmurs, “I was dreaming. I was dreaming and I still almost killed you. What if you’d have been asleep? Gladio, I could have seriously hurt you—!” 

Gladio crouches opposite the blond and takes his hand, “You wouldn’t have. Prom, I’m _Batman_. I heard you coming. If I was asleep, I would have woken up. I have no idea what you’ve been through this past year, but I’m willing to bet my fortune that it wasn’t easy. Your mind hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. _Relax_ , you’re fine.” 

“I almost hit you with a— what was it?” 

“A lamp. Why, what did you think it was?” 

Prompto lowers his eyes, “A crowbar.” 

Gladio almost winces. That would have hurt like hell, and probably knocked him out if it hadn’t have killed him. Prompto had really been looking to do some damage to who he thought Gladio was. 

He brings Prompto’s hand to his mouth, slowly so he could pull away if he wanted to, and presses his lips against against the blond’s knuckles, “Prom, I-I’m not entirely sure what I’ve done wrong, but I know something is up between us. Something’s been weird since you got back, and I know it’s to do to me. I’m not expecting everything to go back to normal between the four of us. I know you’ve been gone a long time, and we _mourned_ you, dude. We had a funeral. I had to tell your dad.” 

Prompto chokes out a laugh, but it sounds more like a sob, clutching Gladio’s hand tightly. 

Gladio smiles weakly, “I hate your dad.” 

“Me too.” 

“I’m... I’m sorry about whatever I did to you. I’m not sure what I did yet, and if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I’ll figure it out, and then I can apologise properly. I just need you to know that I still love you. I always have, and I always will. You, and Noct, and Iggy are my whole world, and I never want to let you go again.” 

Prompto manages eye contact for a whole three seconds, before he throws himself into Gladio’s arms, squeezing his arms around the taller’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“God, Gladio,” He breathes, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know. He told me you did, but you didn’t and I blamed you for it but you _really_ didn’t know.” 

“Didn’t know what?” Gladio frowns, shifting so Prompto could sit on his lap more comfortably. 

“I was in the Asylum,” Prompto admits quickly, tightening his hold around Gladio so he couldn’t pull back and look him in the eye, “Since I left. There’s an abandoned wing under the intensive care unit, it’s got some old offices and padded cells, it’s completely blocked off. I was there for just over a year, until Joker was moved to Arkham City.” 

“The uprising. You were there during the uprising.” 

He hums an affirmation, “He said you knew I was there. He said that he told you he was keeping me there somewhere. I-I thought you’d left me there.” 

“I didn’t know.” 

“I know.” 

“You were so close,” Gladio whispers, “You were right underneath me the whole time. I thought you were dead, but you were right _there_ the whole time.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“What happened after Joker was moved to Arkham City?”

Prompto sighs, loosening his arms but still leaving his head on Gladio’s shoulder, “I managed to escape. I left the island and headed back to Insomnia. Joker hired a mercenary to stop me from leaving but she... decided she liked me. We teamed up for a while, I helped her out on odd ‘army-for-hire’ jobs and stuff. I heard that the Joker got sick. Something about Starscourge, he _was_ dying.” 

“The uprising at the Asylum,” Gladio explains lowly, “He was mass producing Starscourge and he injected himself with it to try and kill me, but it poisoned his bloodstream. He was dying.” 

“So why isn’t he dead?”

“He... injected me with it as well. Forced me to find him, and me, the antidote. Lunafreya managed to make one, and I delivered it to Scarecrow — y’know, Ravus — for Joker, but I... couldn’t stop the mass breakout.” 

“Mm, makes sense,” Prompto murmurs, “He bribed Aranea. Paid her double then what he first offered her to keep me in the Asylum. She brought me to Ravus, and he gassed me with that fear shit he has. When I came back to myself, I was back under intensive care on Arkham Island. I was there for another three months before I managed to get out. Then I came straight here.” 

“Wait - Aranea Highwind? Deathstroke?” 

Prompto finally pulls away, shifting back on the garage floor and crossing his legs. He wipes away the tear tracks on his face with the back of his sleeve, “Mhm. I heard that she slipped off the radar after she took me back to Arkham.” 

“We haven’t heard from her in months,” Gladio confirms, “I assumed she’d been arrested, or something.” 

“No, she’s just loaded from her last job,” Prompto rolls his eyes, then sighs deeply and leans back on his hands, “Why are you awake, anyway?” 

Gladio catches on the change in conversation. Clearly Aranea is still a sore spot. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m working on—“ He waves a hand over his shoulder flippantly, “— a new prototype for the Batmobile. I’m having trouble with one of the turrets, the rubber bullets keep jamming every now and then.”

“Maybe I could take a look.” 

“Not tonight. You’re still shaking.” 

Prompto laughs awkwardly, but it’s true. Even from where he’s leaning back, it’s clear he’s trembling like a leaf after what had happened. 

Gladio pushes himself to his feet with a grunt, then holds a hand out for Prompto, “C’mon.” 

“Where’re we goin’?” 

“Bed.” 

Prompto pulls a face, but takes Gladio’s hand and lets himself be pulled up, “Ah, no thanks. I don’t think... I can go back to sleep, after that. Unless you plan on locking me in the Batcave.” He jokes. 

With a scowl, Gladio leads Prompto back through the garage hand-in-hand, switching the light off as they pass the switch, “We’ll watch a movie, then. Something that means we aren’t sitting on the garage floor, talking about shit after you almost hit me with a lamp.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’m just messin’ with you, it’s fine.” 

They head back up through the dark Manor to the lounge. Gladio can’t help but wonder how Prompto managed to get down to the garage without waking Ignis. Prompto’s room is at the end of the hall, so he’d have to walk past the master bedroom to get down the stairs, and Ignis wakes up at even the slightest sound in contrast to Noct who could sleep through pretty much anything, if they let him. 

Gladio pulls a movie from the shelf as Prompto makes himself comfortable on one of the sofas. He puts the disc in the DVD player and then joins him. 

“I missed you,” He admits when the opening credits start to flash across the TV screen. 

Prompto sighs through his nose, and slides down the back of the sofa until his head is in Gladio’s lap and his feet over hung over the edge of the sofa’s arm, “I missed you too. I’ll... talk to Ignis and Noct in the morning. Tell ‘em what happened, an’ stuff.” 

“Go to sleep,” Gladio says, weaving a hand between blond hair, “Worry about that tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
